


coming up now, out of the blue

by fourthfatality



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-25 02:49:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4943800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourthfatality/pseuds/fourthfatality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Well, okay. It’s like this. Chris is a nerd at heart, and in some fundamental part of his being, he’s diametrically opposed to porn that doesn’t in some way involve Legolas and Gimli trying to one-up each other in battle. But, a combination of bad dates and an inherent lack of fanfiction that is both appealing and well-researched, Chris decides to try something new, figuring that the entire love life situation isn’t going to drastically improve. (And that he doesn’t have enough patience to write the next big Data/Geordi revival fic.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	coming up now, out of the blue

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is a complete au that is a collaboration between bonvivants (basil) and fourthfatality (sniggi.) sniggi writes chris-centered chapters and basil writes josh-centered chapters. other pairings will be added/other characters will get into relationships as the fic progresses. also, this is a pornstar au so the rating will eventually be kicked up to explicit. title is from the young the giant song cough syrup.

**chris,**

  
             If Chris contemplates writing a recent history of his life, it’d be three parts regret to one part of indecision. Eighteen months ago, Ashley broke up with him—not that that wasn’t a long time in coming, he’d just been too indecisive to do anything about it. Then a few months after, he finished his doctoral program and moved down to Silicon Valley to start a new, high-profile tech job. Which, would ordinarily be a good thing, but, after Ash, he’s had a string of bad hookups. He doesn’t look like a typical tech magnate—he's a mix of muscular and pudgy. And he’s at least two shades too white to be handsome.

              In interest of full disclosure, Chris would probably write (in his brief overview of time, space and Dr. Chris Lastname,) about the website. The current bane of his existence, the reason he’s in this mess in the first place. The thing is, somewhere between the third and the fourth bad hookup/date/encounter, Chris found himself buying a premium membership to a certain site with a cute power bottom, the prettiest boy in the world. One thing led to the next, and before he knew it, he spent more time fantasizing about the guy than anything else. 

             Well, okay. It’s like this. Chris is a nerd at heart, and in some fundamental part of his being, he’s diametrically opposed to porn that doesn’t in some way involve Legolas and Gimli trying to one-up each other in battle. But, a combination of bad dates and an inherent lack of fanfiction that is both appealing and well-researched, Chris decides to try something new, figuring that the entire love life situation isn’t going to drastically improve. (And that he doesn’t have enough patience to write the next big Data/Geordi revival fic.) 

             He spends weeks skirting around various websites and free trials, kind of unsatisfied but not fulfilled enough in his regular life to stop looking. When he first sees  _the site_ , (the site that belongs to the most beautiful guy in all of creation, or at least the company that owns him,) he’s a little put off—the layout is confusing; seeming more like someone’s pet project, and not a behemoth like other internet porn sites he’s been on with a dedicated ux/ui team. But, when he sees  _the guy_ , its love at first sight. Green eyes on the world’s most gorgeous jawline. There isn’t much on his profile (“Josh. 29. Deep-throat specialist, and a tiny picture of him, topless with a mischievous grin,”) but it’s enough for Chris to buy a premium subscription almost immediately.

             He doesn’t think much about it initially. Spends the day coding and working with his team on new python packages. Spends the night with a 1080p version of Josh on surround-sound. (He’s a tech nerd by trade; there was  _no way_ he wasn’t wiring up his house.) Invests less time in dating. More time teaching himself ambidexterity and multi-tasking. Figures that this is probably what all normal single people do at some point in time.

             There’s a neat routine to it—morning coffee, two minutes of coding followed by four hours of debug, afternoon coffee and lunch, four more hours of debug, a pvp match of whatever mmo happens to be popular with a can of ice-cold beer, and then Josh until sleep. Rinse, repeat, and avoid looking at himself for extended periods of time in the mirror.

             But then, a few months after he masters the left hand, his office-mate recommends a tiny, local coffeeshop. (“Dude, Chris, it’s like. So good. Like they have this fireplace and the barista there does such a good job.”) 

**the unfortunate erection**

              Chris gets there a half hour before he has to go into work for a project meeting. It’s a quaint little shop. Probably one of the early adopters with regards to the entire artisan toast phenomenon, he hypothesizes. He doesn’t expect much, maybe a cup filled with half-burnt grounds and bad creamer. A stale scone.

           But when he sees those eyes and the jawline and the cheekbones and a little nametag that says “Josh W.” behind the counter, all the blood in his body starts rushing to his face. (At least, until, Josh says “Hey. Can I get something going for you?” At which point, all the blood decides to run towards his other head.)

             “I… uh… coffee?” He manages, still flushed, mouth hanging slightly open.

             “Yeah, I got that.” Josh snorts. “What kind?”

             “Your… favorite?” Chris leans up against the counter and tries to think about his grandma.

             Josh nods. “It’s got like four shots in it. Is that okay?”

             Chris knows he’s staring, but he can’t stop himself. “Uh, shots…” He says.

              Josh stares at him.

              “… t-that should be fine? I think?”

             The drink costs a ridiculous amount of money, but he puts a crisp twenty in the tip jar anyways.

             He picks a table in the corner, holding his drink dangerously close to his crotch as he walks over. He alternates between gripping the edge of the table and mentally reciting all six currently existing Star Wars openings from memory, and drumming his fingers across the surface, trying to steal a glance at Josh.

              _Ash help the world’s ending and I’m the last man on Earth_  –  _Chris,_ he texts.

              _Chris in a meeting w my agent can’t talk._

             He tries Jess and Matt after, only to get a  _“chin up man,_ ” from Matt, who’s clearly never jerked off to a living demigod before, and a  _“tmi chris!!”_ from Jess, who, bless her soul, sends him a picture of a dress she’s supposed to model or something. (Not that it helps, Josh is  _right there_ laughing and grinning at other customers. He thinks he _might_ be looking at him out of the corner of his eye, but he’s not sure how much he’s projecting a weird fantasy onto reality.)

             He takes as long with his drink as long as he can, kind of unsure of how the thing actually tastes, and doesn’t realize he’s forgotten his phone until he reaches into his pocket during his meeting, to try and get the number of the client he’s working with, only to grab his receipt and show the well-dressed woman a fifteen dollar coffee charged to his credit card.

**and**

             He finds himself at the coffeeshop again the next morning, wearing a pair of roomier pants. _It’s for the coffee,_ he convinces himself. _Really good fucking coffee._

             “Hey, it’s you.”

             (Chris blushes.)

             “You forgot your phone here yesterday.”

             (When he goes through it, he finds Josh’s number programmed into it.)

**well,**

             “Emily, you’re an editor, right? Do you think the text sounds a little pushy?”

             “God. Chris.” She can hear her glare through the phone. “It’s just a drink. That’s it. That’s all.”

             “Yeah, but there’s a subtle art to it.” He says, glancing down at his cell.

             She makes a noise halfway between a sigh and a shriek.

**everything else**

              The first message he types happens between three and four the morning after he finds Josh’s number on his phone: _Hey, Josh, this is Chris from the coffeeshop btw I hope its not weird but can I buy you a beer or something as a thank you for finding my phone._ He deletes it almost as soon as he writes it.

The second text: _Hey Josh, can I buy you a beer for finding my phone._ Happens almost six hours after, he’s sitting at his desk staring at buggy code. His phone dies almost as soon as he finishes typing it, and he takes it as a sign to delete, and never send the text.

The third text: _This is Chris from the coffeeshop you found my phone, can I get you a drink or something as a thank you._ Also never makes it to Josh’s phone. He writes it while trying to stave off the need to watch another one of his videos. The video wins, Chris’s text doesn’t.

The fourth: _Josh, can I get you a drink_

Fifth: _Josh, thanks for finding my phone_

And sixth: _Thank you for finding my phone, is it too forward to ask you for a drink as a thank-you?_

Are all too embarrassing to _actually_ send to Josh. He thinks about them each, briefly, before deleting them and contemplating changing his name and living out his life elsewhere, in a more peaceful place with a much faster internet connection.

             In the end, he settles on a _“hey_ ” and hits send before he can think about it for much longer.


End file.
